


Lost Without You

by cabinalbum



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Afterlife AU, Artist Grantaire, Canon Era, Drunk Grantaire, Enjolras Has Feelings, Enjolras is a ghost, Enjolras tidies the house instead of sleeping, Eventual Enjolras/Grantaire, Grantaire & Marius Friendship, Grantaire Angst, Grantaire and Chetta are sad buddies, Grantaire doesn't die, Greek Mythology References, Grief/Mourning, Jealous!Enjolras, M/M, Why?, a lot of moping, because why the fuck not, ghost au, ghost!Enjolras, ghost!Joly, i havent read very far into the brick and it is probably Obvious, im not well versed in the mid 1800s, marius is there for some reason, obviously, probably a lot of anachronisms, set in canon era but written like a modern AU cause i suck, this is literally all inspired by 2 blink-182 songs, Éponine haunts Marius and Cosette in the background
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-15
Updated: 2017-12-15
Packaged: 2019-02-15 06:12:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13024938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cabinalbum/pseuds/cabinalbum
Summary: I saw your ghost tonightit fucking hurt like hellIn which Grantaire didn't die in the Musain, and Enjolras still haunts him- literally.





	Lost Without You

Grantaire doesn’t quite know how he survived. He didn’t feel much of anything after the report sounded. He thought he was dead. 

Just like everybody else.

 _The universe has made a mistake_ , he knew, as he slowly realised that he hadn’t been condemned to death. _Why Bahorel, why Courfeyrac? Why Gavroche, why them and not me? Have I not destroyed enough?_

They had shot him. He knew that as well as he knew the bottom of a wine glass. He could feel the shrapnel embedded under his skin, in his arms and his hips. Had he been able to, he would have laughed at the incompetence of the national guard. _Even in victory, you could not kill the man who gave his life willingly._

He has no idea how long he laid there for, hand still clasped tightly in Enjolras’. How long it took for Musichetta’s footsteps to sound up the stairs of the Musain. She was the first one there. Grantaire knew it was her, though he need not open his eyes. He knew because the first thing he heard through the ringing of his ears was a shrill cry of “Joly!”, and her tears as she wept over her lover. Had he not been on the cusp of consciousness, Grantaire would most likely have felt sick to intrude on their private moment. He would also have felt horror at the realisation that Joly was not the first loved one she must have found dead today.

She’d come over to all of them, one by one. She lingered on Joly for some time, but eventually Grantaire heard her murmuring over Combeferre. He could picture her easily, brushing the man’s hair from his lifeless eyes and looking over his corpse with finality.

He’d felt her beside him, kneeling down as the wooden floorboards creaked underfoot. He felt the material of her dress drag lightly over his arm, but the sensation was nothing to the ache that had settled deep within his bones. Whether it was from the bullets, or the loss of his Apollo, he wasn’t sure.

“ _Oh, Enjolras”_  came a whimper from beside him, and his breathing hitched as she confirmed what Grantaire had already known, had been dreading in his subconscious the hours he had laid there.

_Enjolras was dead._


End file.
